The Crazy Quilt

In Grandmom's day the women picked a length of goods with care,
for it meant more than waists and skirts or dresses they would wear.
And when a garment was outgrown or parts of it wore thin,
it was put to other uses, for to waste would be a sin.

Smaller garments could be cut from unworn parts of skirts,
like frocks for girls or romper suits for little boys; or shirts.
Every scrap of salvaged goods was stowed away in bags.
Then on a leisure rainy day, they'd sort their piles of rags.

Used wool and flannel, cut in strips, was wound in carpet balls
to be hooked or braided into rugs for drafty rooms and halls.
Pretty patches were set by 'til there was time to sew
bed cov'rins, using ginghams, paisley prints and calico.

One morning, from an upstairs trunk, I watched Grandmom take
a patch quilt, and though well worn, still her cherished old keepsake.
It wasn't like some patchwork stitched in intricate design,
just little bits and pieces sewn together line by line.

"A crazy quilt," she called it, but when it was unfurled,
every scrap was a reminder of her family's little world.
"This piece was Will's sun bunnit; I used blue to match his eyes,
looking like big huckleberries, but solemn and so wise."

"For Joe's first day of school, I sewed for him this checkered shirt.
I can see him taggin' down the road behind his sister, Bert.
Now, talk about a peacock, that was Bert when she got dressed.
These gingham plaids she always picked to wear for Sunday best."

"This stripe was little Jimmy's gown; the fevor left him weak.
The angels came when he was two."  A tear rolled down her cheek.
Muslin from her aprons had wiped many a little face,
and if a stranger came, they were her younguns' hiding place.
(Her curly haired shy tykes were in a tintype in the drawer.
I liked the quaint way they were dressed, and buttoned shoes they wore.)

Up and down the pattern, mem'ries brought on smiles and tears,
tugging at her heartstrings, recalling by-gone years.
Yes, those little scraps of fabric helped Grandmom recount the ways
the adage "waste not, want not" was heeded in those days.

- Lilli Lopez "Pineylore"

 The Quiltin'

Jenny's gonna tie the knot; I heard the news in town.
It won't be long until we have the quiltin' frame brung down.
Ask all the ladies in the town to come and join the fun,
so Jenny will remember the night her quilt was done.

She's picked the pattern that she likes; let everybody know,
so they can gather pretty pieces of gingham and calico.
Each of us will make a square and sign it with the date.
This is one night husbands know their women will be late.

We'll stop awhile to rest and have a cup of tea,
and to admire the pattern we'll arrange so prettily.
Everybody tell the latest gossip that you know.
Jenny's bride quilt will tell a story, every block we sew.

- Lillian Arnold Lopez "Pineylore"

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